Coming down, he looked
strange in a flannel collar and a flannel shirt-front, with an evening
coat and vest. It was rather large.

"The tailor can make it right," she said, smoothing her hand over his
shoulder. "It's beautiful stuff. I never could find in my heart to let
your father wear the trousers, and very glad I am now."

And as she smoothed her hand over the silk collar she thought of her
eldest son. But this son was living enough inside the clothes. She
passed her hand down his back to feel him. He was alive and hers. The
other was dead.

He went out to dinner several times in his evening suit that had been
William's. Each time his mother's heart was firm with pride and joy. He
was started now. The studs she and the children had bought for William
were in his shirt-front; he wore one of William's dress shirts. But he
had an elegant figure. His face was rough, but warm-looking and rather
pleasing. He did not look particularly a gentleman, but she thought he
looked quite a man.

He told her everything that took place, everything that was said. It was
as if she had been there. And he was dying to introduce her to these new
friends who had dinner at seven-thirty in the evening.

"Go along with you!" she said. "What do they want to know me for?"

"They do!" he cried indignantly. "If they want to know me--and they say
they do--then they want to know you, because you are quite as clever as
I am."

"Go along with you, child!" she laughed.

But she began to spare her hands. They, too, were work-gnarled now. The
skin was shiny with so much hot water, the knuckles rather swollen. But
she began to be careful to keep them out of soda. She regretted what
they had been--so small and exquisite. And when Annie insisted on her
having more stylish blouses to suit her age, she submitted. She even
went so far as to allow a black velvet bow to be placed on her hair.
Then she sniffed in her sarcastic manner, and was sure she looked a
sight. But she looked a lady, Paul declared, as much as Mrs. Major
Moreton, and far, far nicer. The family was coming on. Only Morel
remained unchanged, or rather, lapsed slowly.

Paul and his mother now had long discussions about life. Religion was
fading into the background. He had shovelled away an the beliefs that
would hamper him, had cleared the ground, and come more or less to the
bedrock of belief that one should feel inside oneself for right and
wrong, and should have the patience to gr